


White Peaches

by caixa



Series: Sunburn Treatment [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Body Worship, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Rimming, Smut, Sunburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 16:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20176996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caixa/pseuds/caixa
Summary: Juuse breathes in peaceful slumber on Pekka’s bed, face turned away from the window, hands neatly under his cheek, one knee bent to the side. He sleeps on his belly – an obvious choice when his sunburned back is probably still sensitive.--A sequel to Sunburn Treatment.





	White Peaches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suruntuoja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suruntuoja/gifts).

> A certain someone asked for this and I thought it would be a fast easy write to get me going with my multichapter wip. Then I spent days with it. Short periods but days nevertheless.  
Hope you like it!
> 
> As always, feel free to suggest ratings/tags and point out errors.
> 
> Fiction is fiction. Please keep this out of the eyes of anyone mentioned below.

* * *

Pekka grimaces at the sight in his bedroom. Or, to be more exact, one disturbing detail in the otherwise perfect delight to the eye.

Juuse breathes in peaceful slumber on Pekka’s bed, face turned away from the window, hands neatly under his cheek, one knee bent to the side. He sleeps on his belly – an obvious choice when his sunburned back is probably still sensitive. The skin blares red under the slight sheen of the generous layer of cooling lotion Pekka has spread on his back.

The back is not exactly the only place where he spread it. Pekka’s eyes wander to the shorts and his wrist remembers the pressure of the waistband when he slid his hand under it. And, moreover, his fingers _definitely_ remember the hot squeeze of the tight young ass, how Juuse trembled when he leaned back against his chest, eyelids flickering shut, coming all over Pekka’s jerking hand.

But the shorts. The colorful fabric must still be damp. It can’t be too comfortable for Juuse, and Pekka’s linen bedspread won’t like it. Too bad he didn’t think it through in the bathroom: he could have freed Juuse of the shorts completely, cleaned him up thoroughly and given him a towel to wrap around his waist.

If he hadn’t been too preoccupied with the throbbing erection the situation had woken up in his pants he might have been thoughtful enough to do so.

Maybe it’s not too late to do something about it. Pekka turns on his feet and fetches a clean towel from the tall cabinet in the bathroom. He’ll leave it on the bed, and if Juuse wakes up to his moves, he’ll point it out; if he doesn’t, Juuse can use it when he wakes up and sees it.

It’s still hard to believe it happened.

Sure, there has been a buzzing tension in the air ever since he asked Juuse to move in for the time he’d spend up in Nashville. Stolen looks when Juuse thinks Pekka doesn’t notice, short little touches. Half-embarrassed giggles when Pekka teases Juuse about something.

It’s hard to resist the temptation to take the little playful pokes at Juuse when it makes his eyes twinkle so nicely and draws a slight blush to his cheeks.

Pekka has taken a note of those moments but has chosen to keep on the path of denial, pushed away the thoughts they provoke. He files them away in a locker deep back in his mind, mentally writing a large **_NO_** on its door. Sometimes **_NOT GONNA HAPPEN_**. Black ink, wide brush.

There have been times when he has given himself some leash, crossed over the **_NO_** in his mind and replaced it with **_MAYBE_** or **_LATER_**, still adamantly holding back, commanding himself not to think of it.

Juuse is his guest, his responsibility. He is a kid; he is to be guided and protected, not taken advantage of.

So, Pekka has balanced on the fine line between friendliness and flirting, between hospitality and pure indulgence in the young man’s presence.

Until Juuse changed it all with one word. One weighty, darkened, serious look, eyes meeting in the mirror.

_Lower_, when Pekka’s palm swept along the waistline of his shorts, where Juuse’s back started curving into strong, round buttocks.

_Lower._

Pekka feeling his rim, verbally asking for that last confirmation of consent to fill the tiny remaining room for doubt.

_Yes._

Juuse is a treat lying down there, the agile body at ease. It’s a constant wonder to Pekka, how they both are just as athletic, their bodies perfect tools for what they do for a living, and yet so different. How Juuse has all the capabilities instilled into that tight little package; he has so often wanted to touch it, as if to assure himself of its reality.

It’s so close now. Pekka lets his gaze brush over the defined back, the shorts hugging the perky round buttocks. The muscular thighs – oh. The skin below the shorts is most certainly burned too. How did he miss that? The red is not as vile as on the back, maybe it was easier for Juuse to apply sunscreen there, but Pekka makes a mental note to mention it to Juuse when he wakes up.

Pekka leans over Juuse to place the rolled towel next to him, on the side where he’s turned his face, so it'll be the first thing he sees.

Which happens sooner than he expected.

Juuse opens his eyes.

Pekka takes a sharp breath, like he was startled the way he never is.

“Brought you a towel,” he says. He’s still standing so close to the bed that his legs touch the edge, and he crouches over Juuse to touch the fluffy surface of the terry cloth. “Your shorts must still be wet.”

Juuse blinks a few times. “Oh. Yeah, thanks.” His eyes wander sleepily on the towel roll and turn up to Pekka.

Pekka straightens his back and turns to leave.

“I’ll leave you alone to undress.”

Juuse props himself up with his elbows. “Pekka, wait.”

Pekka stops on his feet. “Yeah?”

Juuse turns to a half-sitting position, leaning back to straightened arms.

“You said we’d talk.”

Pekka sees the Adam’s apple bob on Juuse’s neck, a sign that he has gathered some courage to say that. He doesn’t want Juuse to be nervous.

Not too nervous, at least. A heated breeze flashes through his being at the memory of leading Juuse through the house to be treated, the hint of uncertainty in Juuse’s eyes when he had to look up at him, not sure of what was going to happen. For one fleeing moment he loved the power rush.

He takes a few slow steps back towards the bed.

“Do you want to talk now?”

Juuse nods. At the same time he rolls out the towel, spreads it like a blanket over his lower body and coaxes the shorts off underneath. Pekka smirks, it reminds him of some auntie changing the bathing suit on a beach with no dressing room facilities, and Juuse catches his smile. Juuse purses his lips, a hint of smile in his eyes, and holds the swimming shorts towards Pekka.

“Here, if you can hang them somewhere.”

Pekka spreads the shorts on the back of a chair, reluctant to leave the room. He returns his gaze to Juuse as quickly as possible and gets back to the bed. Juuse shifts to the middle, sure to make room for Pekka to sit on the edge of the bed, and Pekka takes the hint, sitting down in soft, smooth moves.

“How are you feeling, Juuse?”

“My back or..? Not bad.”

Pekka feels like touching him, just a casual nudge at the shoulder, but keeps his hands down on the bedspread. After what happened, he needs a little more sign of consent to lay a hand on Juuse again – he needs to know there’s no remorse in the air, and if Juuse needs to step back and take his time to process this, Pekka wants to give him the space.

But he leans closer and looks deep in Juuse’s eyes when he speaks. And if his voice is a bit thicker and deeper than usual – so be it.

“I’m not talking about your back. I know it still needs care and I noticed your thighs need too. How do you feel about – what happened?”

Juuse’s lips curl into a smile, it shows his white teeth.

“’Not bad’ counts for it too.”

“No regrets?”

“None.” He bites his lip a bit the way he almost never does. “Except maybe that I didn’t do any of that to you.”

“Oh boy.” That is some serious flirting actually, and Pekka can’t help the completely exhilarated smile from spreading on his face. He turns his face up towards the ceiling and puffs air out from between his lips before looking at Juuse again. “Maybe you’ll have time for that,” he says and Juuse bows down like bashfully hiding his face to his knees and chuckles softly.

“Sounds good,” he says, and Pekka – oh dear, the smile is etched on his face now.

“So you liked what we did there?” he asks.

Juuse lifts his face to look at him and nods repeatedly, head bobbing up and down.

“Yeah,” he admits and sucks his lips in, rubbing them together. _Dry. You need chapstick_, crosses Pekka’s mind. The blue eyes zigzag between Pekka’s like looking for affirmation before locking to look straight into them.

“I think I’ve had a crush on you since I came up here," Juuse says after a moment of silence. He says his confession casually, keeping his eyes in Pekka's, the only sign that he might be nervous a slightly trobbing vein on the side of his neck. "Or longer, I don’t know, ever since – I first met you. Someone I had watched as a kid being so cool in real life.” Juuse scarts a hand through his stubbornly messed hair, shaking his head lightly. “But yeah, long. It’s been _torture_.”

“Torture? Haven’t I been nice to you?”

Juuse rolls his eyes. “Of course! That’s the problem, I guess, _everything _you do is so nice and helpful and generous and then you walk around here looking like _that –_“ he throws his arms out, gesturing towards Pekka, and Pekka glances at his white T-shirt and beige shorts, and chuckles. “- How am I supposed to get over anything?”

Pekka places his hand over Juuse’s towel-covered knee and leans closer. His chest touches Juuse’s shin.

“Do you want to? I can start being mean to you.”

Juuse nudges his chest with his knee.

“You? Mean?” he smiles. “I don’t think you need to.”

Pekka feels comfortable enough to relax and rest his chin on the knee he’s touching.

“I’m glad.” He squeezes the knee. “But now, since you’re awake –“

“Huh?” Juuse’s face perks up, alert and lit up.

“Those thighs.” Pekka slips his hand under the towel Juuse uses as his cover and brushes the said spot, the back of his thigh, lightly with the knuckle side of his fingers. “I said they’re burned and need care.” He pushes himself upright. “Turn around, I’ll get the lotion.”

When Pekka comes back Juuse has rolled over. He has courteously spread the towel under himself on the bed to protect it from any spills and Pekka makes a mental note of that; another reminder of how considerate young man his fellow goalie is.

What’s even more courteous is the fact that the towel no longer covers Juuse. He looks at Pekka over his shoulder so he _must_ know how he looks there, the white round buttocks shining like the moon between the red sunburn lines. As Pekka approaches the bed, Juuse starts slowly parting his thighs, slides them wider apart to the sides, eyes so keen on Pekka’s face that there’s no mistake: it’s a deliberate move of seduction and Juuse is a fucking little show-off, putting his ass and thighs on display in that near-split on his bed.

“I’m ready,” Juuse says.

Pekka sits down on the edge of the towel and pops the bottle cap open. Two can play this slow dragging game, he figures, and squeezes the bottle high above his open palm. The lotion pools there in a narrow, sluggish stream until he has a handful of the cool balm.

There’s so much of the lotion he can’t rub his hands together without spilling; he dips the fingers of his other hand in it and brings them lightly on the back of Juuse’s thigh, brushing a gentle stroke upwards. Another dip, another stroke; third, meticulously next to the first ones, closer to the outer edge of the thigh.

He's using his whole hand now, letting his fingertips trace the outline of Juuse’s defined muscles, aware that Juuse probably likes it so, enjoys that he pays attention. He gives a bit more weight to the next stroke, a little more generous with the lotion for a longer, slippery sweep with the whole palm, fingers on the outer thigh, thumb on the ridge of a hard, trained muscle. Juuse props his shoulders higher with his elbows, stretching his legs to a wider split as Pekka’s hand slides on his skin.

It’s likely that he’s doing it to push his crotch down and Pekka doesn’t mind the thought at all; if his touch is enough to make this hot little boy want to hump his bed he will definitely allow it.

Pekka rubs his hands together now, gets them both covered with the rest of the slick lotion. He puts them on Juuse’s thighs and slides them up with a tight grip to give a good massaging rub. Juuse reacts: his buttocks flex and relax, the ass moves up and down, subtly as a breath but it definitely is there, the grinding motion, the lower back arches to give a sway to Juuse's hips.

Pekka reaches the top of the thighs, runs his thumbs on the crease between Juuse’s curving buttocks and his legs, inside to outside. Juuse has pressed his cheek to the pillow, eyes at him sideways now, bites his bottom lip.

“Do you like this?” Pekka asks as if he doesn’t know, pouring a little more lotion on his palm.

He rubs it to both hands and places them on Juuse’s back and thigh, sliding one down and the other up in perfect sync, detaching from Juuse just when he’s about to reach his ass. He repeats the move with opposite hands and feels Juuse tense under them, like he wanted to push his ass up to his touch, and rewards the boy by dragging the stroke a little further along his buttocks before letting go.

“Yeah I like it.” Juuse’s voice is thick and husky, labored, his hips doing their seemingly unconscious up-and-down-thing, the dance of the pale delicious ass so mesmerizing in its silent plea for stimulation. “Don’t say you’re finished.”

The thighs are pretty much covered, Pekka is sure they both know it, but that doesn’t stop him from taking more lotion and sliding his greased hands slowly up the uppermost part of Juuse’s thighs. He moves them both on the same languid, sensual pace to build up anticipation until he reaches the bottom curve of Juuse’s buttocks, keeping his touch stern and tight. His thumbs meet in the middle and he presses, massaging the perineum close to the ballsack, lets his palms glide onto the rounding buttocks, kneads them, spreading the ass with rhythmic stretches.

Juuse breaths heavily against the pillow, fingers curling on the folds of the bedspread, pushing back to Pekka’s hands.

“Pekka. Take your clothes off,” he breaths out. “Just for -_Ah! – _for balance.”

Pekka rubs over his hole and he twitches at the touch, letting out a short, almost desperate moan. Pekka goes on like he hasn’t heard Juuse’s reguest, kneading his buttocks, teasing his rim with his thumb. Juuse keeps his split admirably, trembling probably more from arousal than muscle strain, and Pekka wants to take his time with this tight little treat.

He shifts on the bed and crouches down behind Juuse. The view is glorious: bald, reddish pink balls hang touching the towel, erect cock behind them presses hard to the bed for friction.

Pekka keeps his hands on the buttocks and presses a kiss on the generously displayed taint. Juuse _moans_ and his breath hitches, going on as short, superficial gasps as Pekka digs intensely into him with his mouth, bites on the inside curve of the buttocks, licks on the delicate thin skin wrinkling towards the round rim, pleased to hear Juuse repeat his name in uncontrolled, almost sobbing voice.

Fuck, actually, Pekka’s shirt _is _getting a bit hot and his shorts very, _very_ tight.

He lifts his mouth from Juuse with a long, wet lick and a peck on one buttock. His hand is still slippery from the lotion when he rubs Juuse’s ass.

“This is no real lube, you know,” he says and pulls his T-shirt off over his head, tossing it on the floor.

Juuse turns to look at him over his shoulder, eyes fixed on the bulging front of his shorts. Pekka locks his gaze on his face and opens the fly of his shorts deliberately slowly, telling with his eyes and his moves that he _knows_ Juuse was looking.

“Do you –“ Juuse starts but stops, like hypnotized for a second when Pekka lowers his pants enough for his cock to pop free “-have – any?”

Pekka smiles, undresses his shorts and underpants in calm, collected moves and reaches over Juuse for his nightstand.

“Of course,” he says, pulls a drawer open. “Do you think we’ll need it?”

“_Vittu,_ sorry, I _know _we need it.” Juuse squirms against the towel under him like a cat in heat and it’s a pleasure to watch the gleam in his darkened eyes. “Fuck me, Pekka. _Soon._ It’ll be so good.”

Juuse is usually so mild-mannered and compliant, it’s nice to wreck his normal balanced composure.

“I have to keep my boy happy,” Pekka says and picks up a plastic tube and a condom from the drawer.

It’s amazing, all that throbbing hot tightness to sink into, again and again, Juuse’s legs stretched open so wide that Pekka’s every thrust makes him grind hard to the towel-covered mattress. Pekka’s hips spank the meaty bubble buttocks, he gets so intimately close, skin on skin. Juuse babbles his name, arching his neck and turning his face to the side, fumbling the air with his lips until Pekka bows down to meet them with his, kissing him through his orgasm, letting go for his own because he has to breath out into the air, or shout, he's not sure, too deep in his ecstasy to register his actions.

A long silence, just two heavy breaths from two collapsed bodies in the heat of the bedroom, is it just them or has the air conditioning gone down?

Pekka crawls up the bed to face Juuse and leans in for a kiss, a deep and slow one, like languid winding down from the heat of a game.

“Let’s get a shower,” he says.

Juuse looks pensive in the bathroom, a towel around his hips, drying his hair with another. He checks out the redness of his back in the mirror, twisting his torso and looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll grease you up again if you’re worried,” Pekka says, rubbing his arms with a towel.

“I’m not worried about that,” Juuse smiles.

Pekka stops.

“Are you worried about something else?”

“I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, it was so good – but how will it be on the team? In the locker room?”

Pekka lets go of his towel and instinctively pulls Juuse in a hug, draping an arm across his back and rubbing his shoulder reassuringly.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he says, withdrawing to an arm’s length to look Juuse in the eye. “We already spend a lot of time together. And we already like each other. Nobody has a problem with either. Why should anything change in the locker room just because you have sucked my dick?”

“But I haven’t –“

Pekka tilts his head and looks at Juuse. His smile is perfectly indulgent and warm but also a little bit wolfish, showing the edge of his sharp canine tooth.

“Oh.” Juuse tries to purse his lips to hold back a smile but fails miserably.

The hot Tennessee sun is getting ready to set, casting its last golden rays through the small window of the bathroom where Juuse gets down on his knees.

He gives one long, languid lick and darts the last radiant look from his twinkling blue eyes up at Pekka before closing them to fully concentrate on giving the blowjob of his life.

Until the next one.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Comments and kudos always appreciated.
> 
> I'm caixxa and badhockeymom on tumblr.


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